


Seven Minutes in Heaven

by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill), traintracks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, F/M, Humor, Insults, Lust Potion/Spell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumosed_quill/pseuds/lq_traintracks, https://archiveofourown.org/users/traintracks/pseuds/traintracks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron gets a surprise (or three) in the closet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Minutes in Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Samhain Smut, 2013.

"Wo-on. Won-won."

The voice came at him through the dark, and for a heinous moment Ron couldn't believe his bad luck that _she_ was the one he'd gotten stuck in the closet with for Seven Minutes in Heaven. Some Hallowe'en party this had turned out to be. McLaggen had stepped on his foot. Hermione was passed out in the corner from all of two firewhiskeys. Harry was, no doubt, being heavily admired somewhere.

And now he was stuck snogging Lavender like that wasn't something he already suffered through twelve hours of the day anyway.

"Won Weasley, I want your big bludger bat of a cock."

Ron froze. This was either not Lavender or she had taken some seriously successful lessons in talking dirty. She was more your "Wanna feelsies my boobies, Won-won?" type.

It wasn't until the green fingernails came at him out of the shadows and her crimson lips, newly licked, shone in the scant candlelight, though, that it dawned on Ron what he was truly in for. And it didn't sound like snogging or any kind of "feelsies".

"P-Pansy Parkinson?" he squeaked like a second year.

"Oh Weasley," she cooed. Her hands clawed at his chest as she slithered close. "You...preposterously doltish goon. I want you."

Despite her words, her hands rubbed up and down his chest and her stockinged leg insinuated itself between his own, provoking an unnatural sounding...well, "Phhuuh," from his shocked mouth.

"You want me, too, don't you?" she murmured, lips so close to his own. "You must want me. I mean, look at me."

"Do you, er, have the wrong closet maybe?" Ron tried. But his dick wasn't exactly on board with the question. She did happen to look quite...perky. Her breasts nearly spilled over the satin of her dress, and the silky material clung to her curvy hips as well. And while Ron didn't especially enjoy being called a dolt, his dick didn't care if she called him a wart-covered troll as long as she kept up the rubbing.

"Weasley," Pansy said seriously. "If this closet's wrong, I don't want to be right."

Then she kissed him, her tongue plunging into his mouth so that he tasted the chocolate on her breath. Chocolate laced with something spicy. Cayenne maybe. Dragon's blood. It hardly mattered, because she'd half-climbed him now and was humping against his thigh in a way that ceased all thought in his head.

He was going to shag a truly horrible person. And sweet Merlin, he was going to love it.

Pansy broke the kiss to unzip him and yank his trousers down around his thighs.

"Wow, you're really...ambitious," he observed.

"You have no idea, you absurd-haired clod," she answered. Then her hand was digging around in his pants until she had him squeezed in her fist.

Ron gasped, "Fucking hell." But then she pumped, and his eyes rolled back, and Ron had no choice but to lean back against the wall with a whimpering sigh.

"Oh how that goofy grin gets me hot," Pansy growled.

Ron opened his eyes just in time to see her hiking up her dress. She wasn't wearing any knickers, and Ron gaped at the sight of her dark curls. Merlin's beard, he was looking right at a pussy! A _pussy_. On a woman! A mean, awful woman he wanted so badly he was ready to beg.

But before he could do so much as lick his lips, she turned around. The disappointment was short-lived as she then bared her plump, pink arse to him.

"I like it up my bum, Weasley, can you handle that?" she sighed, bending at the waist, grabbing the shelving in front of her, and then pressing her arse back into his crotch.

"Ggiiissshh," Ron philosophized.

"Come on!" she goaded. "We've got about five minutes. Can you fill me up with your family's prolific splooge, or not?"

She butted back against him, and her arse hugged his cotton-covered dick.

"Sweet Jesus," Ron cried. But then he fished his cock out and began rubbing it over her arsehole. That sensation alone almost did it.

Pansy suddenly pulled her wand. Whatever spell she cast gave him just the smallest bit more control. "You will keep from losing it all over the back of my dress, do you hear me?" she gritted out. "Now, put it in and fuck me, you mediocre Keeper, or I'll have your head in our next Defense class."

"Okay," he croaked. Ron cleared his throat. "Okay," he said.

Pansy cast a lubricating spell then, so that when Ron pressed forward, his cock popped into her easily, and they both groaned.

Ron grasped the flesh of her hips as he slid in, watching himself disappear up her arse, inch by inch.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah," Pansy moaned, and Ron felt like the king for sure.

He pushed it all the way up, felt his bollocks brushing...well, something soft and wonderful.

"Oooohhhhhhh GOD!' Pansy groaned loudly. Ron could practically feel it in his cock. But then she said, "This has got to be the best Lust Potion I've ever tried, because you feel bloody fantastic up there."

"Lust Potion?!" Ron blurted. "You took a Lust Potion on purpose?"

"Only like I do for every party," Pansy snorted. "Longbottom, Corner, Crabbe, Goyle, Crabbe and Goyle, Nott, Finnegan, Macmillan, and Finch-Fletchley never complained," she added. "Now are you going to do it or do I need to find one of your brothers?"

Ron tightened his jaw. She was vile. Wretched and vile. But her arse felt incredible.

"Hell yes, I'm gonna do it," Ron growled. He started fucking into her hard. The bounce of her buttocks against his hips was bloody lovely, and the way she moaned on every stroke -- the way his rough fuck made her moaning staccato instead of smooth -- almost hurt it was so good.

"Oh, Weasley!" she cried. "Oh, subpar knutless wizard--"

"Shut up," Ron spat out, going faster.

Pansy just breathed a low laugh, and Ron watched one of her hands descend between her legs. It appeared to be moving really fast. Ron had no hope of matching her speed with his thrusts, but he wasn't averse to giving it all he had.

He wasn't averse to much of anything apparently. But damn if Pansy Parkinson's arse wasn't the finest thing Ron had ever felt in all his life.

"Two minutes," she warned. "You gonna come up my arse or do I have to--?"

"OH FUCK YES!" Ron bellowed, spurting his hot come inside her jiggling bum without further ado. "Ahh, ahh, ahh!' he gasped, losing his rhythm and beginning to tremble.

She joined him, then, bucking and mewling and pushing her arse hard into his cock until he was so far in he stumbled.

When she was done, she stayed bent over for his cock a moment, the both of them panting. Then she eased off of it, hissing, and stood, righting her dress.

Ron simply stood there with his bits hanging out, stunned out of his mind that he'd just had sex for the first time with Pansy Parkinson's potioned-out, luscious bumhole, her revolting mouth flapping all the while.

She turned to him, then, smirking and bedroom-eyed. She purred at him. "Ron Weasley, you bugger a girl right."

Ron blushed.

"I'm going to tell you something," she said in a hush. "I'm going to be equal parts turned on and disgusted later." At his frown, she whispered, "That was a compliment."

Then she wanded his cock clean and zipped him back inside his trousers. "Watch it!" he squeaked when the zipper prongs almost got his short hairs.

Pansy just smirked. "See you at Christmas, yeah?" Then she opened the closet door, sauntered out into the crowd, and left Ron there to feel...

Well, bloody brilliant, actually.

Ron straightened his shirt as a slow, triumphant smile spread over his lips and he rejoined the party, a newly initiated preposterously doltish goon.


End file.
